


All My Sleepless Nights

by Juh_Nunes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Heartfelt Conversations, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Insomnia, M/M, Post-War, Sentient Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juh_Nunes/pseuds/Juh_Nunes
Summary: Draco couldn't sleep, so he wandered around. Somehow in the middle of the silent night he found companionship, understanding, and something else





	All My Sleepless Nights

Draco couldn't sleep. Ever since the end of the war, Draco simply couldn't sleep. Of course sometimes he would pass out from pure exhaustion, but he was unable to lie down on his bed and fall asleep.

At first, Draco thought he was just nervous about his trial. He had reason to be, after all: he was afraid to end up in Azkaban, he was afraid his mother could end up in prison, and he was afraid he would never see either of his parents again. But the trial had passed, his parents were on house arrest, and he was on parole — all thanks to Potter, he knew. Still, he couldn't sleep.

Then Draco thought maybe it was because of the Manor. Maybe he couldn’t sleep because he could still feel the presence of that damned snake in every corner of his house, or because he could remember way too well the screams that used to come from the cellar, or maybe it was the dark magic aura that was left in the whole house. And that, he thought, would keep anyone awake.

But when he got back to Hogwarts and still couldn’t sleep, he knew it had to be something wrong with him.

At Hogwarts, every time Draco tried to sleep, he had the same nightmare. It would always start with Potter looking at him in the middle of the parlour, at Malfoy Manor, and no one else was able recognize Potter. Then the damned snake would try to bite Draco, so he would run up to his room, only when he’d open the door to his room, he’d end up in the room of Hidden Things with fire trying to consume him, but instead of Potter showing up to rescue Draco, he’d run until he was outside and Hagrid would carry Potter’s lifeless body from the forest.

So Draco couldn’t sleep.

And he couldn’t stay in the dorm either.

Coming back to Hogwarts had been hard. One of his friends was dead, everybody in the school hated him simply for being alive, and he couldn’t even antagonize Potter like he used to or he would sound like an ungrateful brat, and the few people who still talked to Draco would leave him, afraid of getting on the saviour’s bad side.

To make things worse, Draco was stuck in a dorm room with his fellow Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs. Since they shouldn't be at Hogwarts anymore, there was no place for the eighth years in their original houses, so the Headmistress had created a new dorm and common room for them in the west wing. 

Being in the common room during the day was impossible for Draco. Everybody looked him sideways and whispered about him. Being in the dorm room wide awake while everybody else was sound asleep was hard too, especially with the Hufflepuffs putting up all kinds of wards around their beds during the night, afraid of the bad Death Eater who was sharing their room.

So Draco acquired the habit of wandering around the castle during the night.

The first time was the night after Justin Finch-Fletchley woke up in the middle of the night to find Draco sitting on his bed reading a book. Finch-Fletchley’s eyes went wide, he ran back to his bed, and cast all the wards he knew. The next day he told everyone else he was sure Draco was awake during the night in the hopes of hexing them in their sleep.

That night Draco left the dorm room as soon as all his roommates were asleep. He sat by the fireplace in the common room for a while, until the fire started to die. Then he left the common room, without worrying about curfew, and wandered the halls all night long.

Soon he was doing it every night. He would wait for everybody to sleep, go to the common room and sit by the fire, and then walk around the castle. It gave him a sense of freedom he hadn’t experienced since before the war.

Night after night, he explored the castle, found secret passages and hidden staircases, went to the kitchen and the house elves treated him better than anyone in the castle, took long baths in the Prefects’ bathroom, and even went to visit Myrtle. But still, when Draco eventually went back to bed, he couldn't sleep.

Draco wandered around the castle for weeks before he worked up the courage to go to the astronomy tower. There was a strange feeling in the air he had never felt before, and he felt compelled to go there. It was like the whole castle was pushing him to the tower, against his will, and every corner he took seemed to lead him there. Some of the staircases seemed to change destination the moment he put his foot on them, and corridors led him to places different from the ones they were supposed to.

As soon as he reached the astronomy tower he felt bad. He shouldn’t be there, it was too much for him to deal with. He wanted to go back, but again, he felt compelled to go forward, until he was in the exact place where Dumbledore had said he could help Draco. He wished he had accepted Dumbledore’s help, he wished the Headmaster had lived long enough to help him. If so, maybe he would be able to sleep now.

He turned around to leave, and stopped in his tracks. Potter was right there, seated on the floor, by the door, looking like he had been there for hours. Draco couldn’t remember seeing Potter when he came in, but Potter obviously had been there the whole time. He looked tired, as if, like Draco, he couldn’t sleep. And he was looking at Draco as if he were interested in why Draco was there, but not at all surprised.

“Malfoy,” he said with a little nod, the same nod he gave Draco every single time they crossed paths since the final battle.

“Potter,” Draco answered politely. He could go away. He could nod to Potter and walk away. And yet, he couldn’t. He felt like he had to say something, anything. “What are you doing here?” 

Maybe not that, he thought, as soon as the words were out of his mouth. If one of them had any right to question the other, it clearly wasn’t Draco.

“Don’t sleep much this days,” Potter said. He didn’t seem to mind Draco questioning him. “What about you?”

“Same thing,” Draco exhaled. 

Draco didn’t know how to talk to Potter. Should he be a grateful little puppy like everybody else? Should he be politely distant like he had been since the end of the war? Should he try to go back to familiar grounds and insult Potter? Or should he do something else entirely?

“If you are going to stay, sit down,” Potter said after a few seconds of complete silence.

Draco could do that. So he walked to the same strip of wall where Potter was and sat by his side. He wanted to say something to Potter, maybe thank him for saving his life and keeping him out of Azkaban, maybe something else entirely. But they just sat there, for hours, until the sun rose on the horizon.

As if coming out of a trance, Draco stood up, nodded to Potter, and walked away.

After that he found Potter there every night. They would sit there side by side in silence until dawn. Sometimes Draco would arrive first, but usually Potter was already there whenever Draco arrived.

“I was here, you know,” Potter said one night, after a little over a week of silent nights.

“I know,” Draco answered. He didn’t know at the time, and he wasn’t there when Potter talked about it at his trial. But his mother had told him everything that happened during the witnesses’ testimony. “I wish I had accepted his help,” he said, because he had nothing to lose by saying it.

“I wish I'd had the chance to make the same offer,” Potter said after a while, like he had thought about it for a long time. “Everything was just too fast,” he continued after sighing, “one minute he was offering you a chance, the next he was dead. I didn’t even have the chance to think about everything that happened here until it was too late.”

“I’d never wanted to kill him,” Draco said, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the wall, “I’ve never wanted to kill anyone.”

“I’ve never wanted to kill anyone either,” Potter sighed. “In the end, I killed someone, you didn’t.”

“It’s not like you had any other options, is it?” Draco said, “I had other options and—”

“There is always another option,” Potter said. “I could have just left, let him win—”

“You couldn’t!” Draco exclaimed, opening his eyes and looking at Potter. “He would’ve just kept going after you ‘til one of you were dead.”

“He would’ve killed your family if you hadn’t done what he wanted,” Potter answered, looking at Draco straight in the eyes. “We had options, of course we had, but we couldn’t see any good options at the time.”

“It was still a bad thing to do,” Draco said, looking away from Potter. “I almost killed Weasley and Bell.”

“Never said it was not a bad thing.” Potter shrugged. “Just said you had few options,” he added, standing up. “And I don’t think this is the best time to talk about almost deaths.” He nodded to Draco and walked away.

Draco stayed there long after the sun was high in the sky. He could almost feel like he was forgiven, even though he had never said he was sorry.

Potter was not there the next night, nor the night after that. The third night Potter wasn’t at the Astronomy Tower, Draco felt the castle guiding him somewhere else. So he followed along, until he was facing the wall on the seventh floor corridor, where he had spent so much of his time in their sixth year.

And Potter was there, seated on the floor, facing the plain wall. He nodded to Draco, as always, not in the least surprised to see Draco there. Draco sat down next to him, because it was what he was supposed to do. 

They spent another week in silence. Somehow, Draco knew this time he was the one who should break it, but it took him a week to work up the courage to say something.

“I thought I was going to die,” Draco said, without looking at Potter, fixing his eyes on the plain wall in front of them.

“I know the feeling,” Potter answered. “But I couldn’t let you die like that. I don’t think I could let anyone die like that—”

“You would’ve even saved Vince if you could, wouldn’t you?” Draco asked, even though he already knew the answer. There was a good reason Potter was called the saviour.

Potter nodded.

“Thank you for not telling them it was me, back at your house,” Potter said after a few minutes. 

“It’s not the same,” Draco said, and he didn’t know why the way Potter said that annoyed him so much. “You saved my live.”

“Things would’ve been very different if you had told them the truth.” Potter shrugged. “They would’ve called Voldemort right away—”

“But you wouldn’t have died, would you?” Draco sighed. “So it’s not the same.”

“If it'd happened in your house, your mother would've had no reason to lie to him, and then he would have been able to kill me. It’s complicated,” Potter said, leaning his head on the wall. “He would've killed my friends, he could've found out what I was doing... There's no way of knowing exactly what would’ve happened. But I believe you made a huge difference.”

“Is that why you saved me?” Draco couldn’t stop himself from asking, though deep down he knew it wasn’t. “Because you felt like you owed me for not telling them it was you?”

“No,” Potter answered, but didn’t elaborate. “Do you regret it? Not telling them it was me?”

“No,” Draco answered, and didn’t feel the need to elaborate either.

They stayed there, looking at the plain wall, for a long time. When the sun started coming in the windows, Potter stood up, and looked at Draco before he asked:

“You know I don’t regret it either, right?”

“I know,” Draco said while Potter walked away. And he did know, even though he'd only just realised it.

Potter was not there the next night. 

Draco didn't know what exactly was happening to him, and why the castle seemed to keep pushing him towards Potter, but somehow all the time he had been spending with Potter was making him feel better. He even thought he could sleep a little if he tried.

For the next couple of nights he wandered around the castle without finding Potter. He became a little afraid he wouldn’t find Potter again, but somehow he knew the castle would show him the way when it was the right time. And so the castle did. The third night after his talk with Potter in front of the room of Hidden Things, he felt compelled again, and ended up in front of Myrtle’s bathroom.

Potter was seated just outside the door. This time he didn’t nod to Draco or even lift his head. He looked pained. Draco didn’t say anything, just sat down beside Potter, like he was getting used to, and waited. He knew this time Potter was supposed to talk first.

Another week passed by. For the first time since they started meeting each other during the night, Potter looked like he felt uncomfortable. Draco thought he was not the only one who struggled with apologies, because he knew that was what was supposed to happen there. So he decided he could do it for Potter. If he never apologised for what he did, Potter didn’t have to apologise either.

“I forgave you for it a long time ago,” Draco said, facing Potter.

“You shouldn’t have,” Potter sighed. “I almost killed you,” he said, closing his eyes and resting his head on the wall behind them.

“I was about to  _ Crucio _ you,” Draco said, imitating Potter’s position and closing his eyes. It was a little weird. He was not supposed to assess his blame, he was there to forgive Potter. Still, he felt like that was the right thing to do.

“I could take a  _ Crucio _ quite easily,” Potter snorted. “Don’t want to belittle you, but I doubt it would’ve been worse than Voldemort’s.”

“You were just defending yourself, and you said you didn’t know what the curse would do,” Draco murmured. “I don’t blame you for it anymore.”

“But you should,” Potter said, his voice small and subdued. “And you shouldn’t be here defending my actions.” 

“Well, I’m not really sure what I should or shouldn’t be doing anymore,” Draco shrugged. “We were in the middle of a war, you did what you could to protect yourself. Like you said, we didn’t have good options back then.”

They spent a long time in silence after that. But Draco didn’t feel uncomfortable. He felt like the things weighing him down were starting to give way.

“Did it leave a scar?” Potter asked, his voice muffled.

“Yes,” Draco answered simply.

“I’m sorry,” Potter said. Draco looked at Potter and was transfixed by those shiny green eyes. “You said you already forgave me, but I needed to apologise.”

“I do,” Draco said a little stupidly. “I forgive you,” he added feeling dumb.

Potter nodded, arose, and left. Draco knew they would not find each other in that place again.

For the next couple of days Draco could almost sleep. He was able to nap for a couple of hours before he returned to wandering the school. This time the castle compelled him to go to the Great Hall. He thought that was a little weird. He couldn’t imagine what he and Potter would need to talk about there. But he opened the door quietly anyway, and saw Potter lying on the floor, looking at the stars.

He didn’t know if he was supposed to lie down next to him, so he sat on the floor, resting his back on the foot of the Slytherin table.

“Are you also wondering why here?” Potter asked after a few minutes.

“I am,” Draco sighed. “But I have no idea what has been going on since the beginning, so.” He shrugged.

“I’m not sure either,” Potter admitted. “It’s like the castle is compelling me to go to places where I feel like I failed—”

“Failed?” Draco asked, frowning a little.

He felt like the castle was compelling him to go where he could find some peace. It was like the school was showing him his past and making him think about how he felt different now. So he told Potter that.

“You really feel different now?” Potter asked, looking away from the stars to face Draco.

“I don’t think I could feel the same way after everything,” Draco admitted.

“I used to think we were enemies, you know?” Potter asked after a while, looking back to the stars. “The weird thing is that sometimes, it was like you were more of an enemy to me than Voldemort.”

“I’m flattered,” Draco snorted. “I used to think of you the same way.”

“And then everything changed,” Potter sighed. “And sometimes I find myself missing those days.”

“I don’t,” Draco said with conviction. “Things are worse for me now, I don’t even have my freedom, not completely anyway, but I don’t miss being your enemy.”

“Not that,” Potter laughed a little. “I miss being able to not feel the way I’m feeling right now...”

“And how are you feeling?” Draco asked before he could stop himself. That was a little too intimate of a question, wasn’t it?

“Hollow,” Potter answered with a sigh. “Like I lost all my purpose.”

Draco observed him carefully. Potter was telling the truth. While Draco could not be sure, he thought Potter could not lie. And the other boy looked so tired, and so broken. Draco wondered if Potter looked like that to the rest of the world as well, or if he only looked like that during his nights with Draco.

“All my life I knew I had this mission,” Potter continued. “I knew I was supposed to end the war one way or another. I was not supposed to survive it. And now I don’t know what I should be doing with my life.”

“We are eighteen, Potter,” Draco said, without hiding a smile. “We don’t need to know what we are doing with our lives. We have all the time in the world.”  _ Thanks to you.  _ He felt like adding, but didn’t.

“People expect me to be an auror, and marry Ginny, and have half a dozen kids…” Potter said, facing Draco. “I don’t think I want to do any of those things.”

“You don’t have to,” Draco said emphatically. “You can do whatever you want. Or you can do nothing at all. You earned that right, for sure.”

“What do you want to do?” Potter asked, looking at the stars again.

“I don’t know,” Draco shrugged. “I’m supposed to marry someone my parents choose for me, and to take care of the Malfoy estate, and to have an heir. But I don’t think I’m doing that.”

“Are you finally rebelling?” Potter asked with a little smile playing on his lips.

“Better late than never, isn’t it?” Draco laughed.

It was weird to talk like that with Potter. It was deep, about their feelings and future prospects, but it was also easy, and light. Draco felt like he could tell Potter anything and be understood.

“I believe the castle is trying to teach me how to say I’m sorry,” Draco said, making Potter look at him. “I never did. Not really.”

“And now you feel like doing it?” Potter asked, locking eyes with Draco.

“Yes,” Draco sighed. “I really am sorry, you know,” he admitted, facing Potter with his new-found courage. “I was stupid, I thought everything had to be the way I wanted. And I didn’t deal very well with you rejecting my friendship—”

“I kind of regret that as well,” Potter said, without taking his eyes off Draco’s. “I feel like things would have been better if we had been friends.”

“Or I would have corrupted you and the Dark Lord would have won the war,” Draco said, lifting one eyebrow at Potter. “We have no way of knowing.”

“At least we have the chance to try to be friends now,” Potter said, making Draco’s heart skip a beat.

“Yeah,” Draco mumbled. “I think we can.”

Draco found Potter at the same place the next day. He had been able to sleep for a couple of hours again and was feeling like a new person. He had said he was sorry, he had said he forgave Potter, he had admitted he was wrong, and Potter wanted to be his friend. This time he lay on the floor next to Potter and looked at the stars. 

They didn’t speak about serious things, but they were not silent either. Potter made Draco laugh, really laugh, like he had never laughed before. He told Potter about the night he spent individually charming all the Potter Stinks badges back in fourth year, and Potter laughed so much he cried. It was like that for the whole week, and Draco felt light and at ease. 

Next the castle compelled him to go to their old potions classroom. When Draco arrived, Potter was seated on the teacher’s table, his legs hanging from the side, swinging. Draco sat next to him on the table as well.

“I still hate him, you know,” Potter said, and Draco knew he was talking about Snape. “Now I know he was working with Dumbledore and all that, and I recognise his contribution. But personally, I still hate him.”

“He was never really fair with you,” Draco agreed. “And I’m pretty sure he hated you as well.”

“He would probably be offended if I stopped hating him all of a sudden, wouldn’t he?” Potter asked, giving Draco the little smile he was starting to think of as his own.

“I believe he is okay with you hating him,” Draco smiled back. “I wish I had known he was working with Dumbledore.” Draco sighed after a few minutes of silence. “Last year I was always so afraid. If I had known he was working for Dumbledore… If I had known I could have gone to him for advice… But he was always so convincing.”

“That he was,” Potter sighed as well.

They stayed there in companionable silence for a few hours until Potter grew restless.

“I wish this thing would send us to the Quidditch pitch,” Potter said.

“We could just go there, you know,” Draco said and smirked. “I don’t think whatever this is would mind if we went somewhere we want for once.”

“I don’t know,” Potter shrugged. “I guess I thought you wouldn’t go if the castle didn’t compel you to.”

“I would if you asked me,” Draco shrugged as well, imitating Potter’s movements without noticing.

“Meet me at the Quidditch pitch tomorrow?” Potter asked, locking eyes with Draco.

He could not answer,  like he forgot all his words. So he nodded, and Potter left.

Draco was a little confused. He was not sure anymore of how his encounters with Potter made him feel. He was happier, he was sleeping again, and his nightmares had been replaced by dreams about talking with Potter somewhere in the castle. And Potter seemed to be feeling better as well. He looked less anxious, like his nights with Draco had taken something that had been weighing him down. But what did that mean?

For the first time since the beginning of term Draco paid attention to the rest of the world during the day, especially what Potter did when he was not with Draco. He was surprised to see that Potter didn’t look well during the day. He  frowned constantly and always looked like he was about to flee. Draco observed Potter’s friends as well, Granger and Weasley watched Potter with obvious concern.

That afternoon he didn’t take a nap before going to meet Potter. He was too anxious about their first scheduled meeting, and that’s how he ended up at the pitch way before Potter. Draco thought about retrieving his broom from the shed and going for a fly. But all of a sudden the thought gave him chills and his legs shook. He had no idea what was happening to him. He sat down next to the shed and couldn’t stop trembling. Potter found him there two hours later.

“Are you okay?” Potter asked, crouching next to him.

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “I don’t think so.”

“What happened?” Potter asked, frowning, and Draco realised he didn’t frown around Draco anymore.

“I’m not sure,” Draco sighed. “I thought about flying and started to tremble.”

“Oh,” Potter said, sitting down next to Draco. “Have you flown since the final battle?”

“No,” Draco frowned. “The last time was—” and then he stopped, because it was obvious. The last time he had flown was when Potter rescued him from the Fiendfyre, and he hadn’t thought about flying since. Somehow he was afraid of one of the things he loved doing the most.

“I see,” Potter said, looking at Draco intently. “We don’t need to fly if you don’t want to.”

“I— I want,” Draco said, trying to look confident. “I always loved flying. I can’t let this happen.”

It was not rational. Fear of flying after everything that had happened made no sense. He would have been able to understand if he were afraid of fire or snakes, but fearing flying? Flying was good, flying had saved him from the fire. The only reason he was alive was because Potter had always been good on a broom. So why was he afraid now?

“Immediately after the final battle I got terrified of being away from Ron and Hermione,” Potter said. “And I think they were afraid of being separated from me, too. When we were finally able to spend time away from each other, I got weirdly afraid of closed spaces. The war did some strange things to all of us.”

They didn’t fly that night, nor  the night after. They kept going back to the pitch, night after night, until about a week after their first meeting there Draco was able to grab his broom without trembling. They could finally leave the ground.

Potter invited Draco to go back to the pitch the next night, but apparently the castle decided they had spent enough time there. As soon as he left the common room, Draco felt compelled to go somewhere else, and he knew wherever the castle led him, Potter would be there too.

Draco found Potter sitting on the floor in front of the entrance to the Headmistress’s office. He had no idea why the castle thought they should be there. But since their time in the Great Hall, Draco had started to think that this night visits had little to do with him, and everything to do with Potter.

“I feel like I should hate him too,” Potter said, as if he were continuing a conversation they had started before. And Draco knew he was. They had been having this conversation for months now. “He used me. Just like Voldemort used you.”

“But you don’t hate him,” Draco said, sitting next to Potter, and he knew he was right.

“I get it,” Potter sighed. “Voldemort had to be stopped. Dumbledore sacrificed himself for it, and he was willing to sacrifice me too. The thing is, I was willing to sacrifice myself, but I would never intentionally send someone else to die.”

“That’s what makes you different from both of them,” Draco said, observing Potter’s profile. “You did what had to be done, but you saved as many lives as you could along the way.”

“Still, too many people died,” Potter said, burying his face in his hands. “I keep thinking I could have been quicker, I could have ended everything sooner.”

“You said it yourself a while ago, if things had happened differently, there is no way of knowing what would have happened,” Draco said. “People died, but if the final battle had played out in another way, more people could have died, different people could have died. Who knows?”

“I sure don’t,” Potter said, taking his hands away from his face, and shaking his head. “I don’t want to be here again tomorrow,” he added, looking at the entrance to the Headmistress’s office with a frown.

“Where do you want to be?” Draco asked.

“I think I just want to stay in the common room, would you do that?” Potter asked, turning to Draco with pleading eyes.

Draco nodded. And for the first time since all this started, they went  back to the Eighth Year common room together, and only parted ways when they reached the dorms.

Potter was on the sofa in front of the fireplace the next night when Draco arrived at the common room. He looked comfy, and Draco felt compelled to sit with him, and he knew this time around it had nothing to do with the castle pushing him.

“Do you usually try to sleep before going out?” Potter asked when Draco sat with him.

“Sometimes,” Draco shrugged. “But not today.”

“Before you started to show up I always tried to sleep for a while until the castle pushed me somewhere,” Potter said, staring at the dying fire.

“When did you start to feel the castle pulling you?” Draco asked, frowning.

“Since our first day back,” Potter said, turning to him. “Didn’t you?”

“The first time I felt it was the day I found you at the astronomy tower.”

Potter frowned, shook his head, and said: “It doesn’t matter, even though I don’t understand it.”

“It doesn’t,” Draco agreed, leaning against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes.

They stayed there, sitting together in the common room, where anyone could find them, until the the sun rose. Draco thought he had dozed off a couple of times.

When they went back to their respective dorm rooms, Draco realised how things had changed since the beginning of term. He and Potter had been spending night after night talking about everything that had happened, and could have happened, and Draco realised he could move on. He didn’t need to spend the rest of his life torturing himself over the war.

He wondered if that was what the castle had wanted all along, for him to find a way to move on. He wondered if that also applied to Potter, and if he had found a way to do it too.

Draco found Potter sitting in the common room the next night, and every night thereafter. Some nights they stayed there together staring into the fire, and others they talked about the past, not only the war, but the good parts too. 

“I don’t think the castle will send us anywhere else,” Potter said, about a month after they first spent the night in the common room.

“I gather it finally got what it wanted,” Draco said, nodding.

“So you believe you figured out what it was?” Potter asked, turning to Draco.

“I don’t know if the castle had the same intentions for both of us, but I think I figured out what it wanted for me,” Draco shrugged.

“The last time we talked about it you said it was trying to teach you how to apologise,” Potter said, and Draco though his green eyes looked intense.

“I guess it was part of it,” Draco said, allowing himself a small smile. “I gather whatever it was wanted me to understand that I can move on, that I don’t need to keep torturing myself over things that were out of my hands.” He sighed. “What about you?”

“I think it was about healing some wounds,” Potter said, looking back into the fire. “Not the physical ones, though.”

“I know,” Draco said in a low voice.

“And it worked for some of them,” Potter turned back to Draco, “but the others are too deep. There are things that I don’t even know how to start addressing. But I think I learned that is okay too. You were right, I have the rest of my life to figure out everything.”

“And why do you think it pushed both of us to the same places?” Draco asked, feeling his heart beating faster.

“I guess we needed each other for it to work out,” Potter shrugged. “I feel like I would’ve never figured out some of it without you there. And maybe I would have ended up married to Ginny with a dozen ginger babies, even though I know I don’t love her like that.”

“Without you I would have never understood that some of our options could have made everything even worse,” Draco whispered.

“Do you think the castle wanted us to be friends?” Potter asked, his eyes were shining, and Draco was afraid of knowing why.

“I don’t know,” Draco murmured, “but I believe we are friends now, right?”

“Right,” Potter answered in the same tone. “I don’t miss the days before the war anymore.”

Draco spent a long time in silence, looking into Potter’s eyes and wondering if he felt the same as Draco. 

“Do you think people would have a problem with us being friends?” Draco asked with a hoarse voice.

“I gather they would, but I don’t care if you don’t,” Potter said.

“I don’t,” Draco replied, shaking his head slightly.

“Draco, I  —” Potter started to say, but Draco interrupted him.

“You called me by my name,” Draco murmured, widening his eyes.

“I think we are way past a last name basis, don’t you?”

“I do,” Draco said, and after a deep breath he added, “Harry.”

“Draco,” Harry said and then paused for a few seconds. “How come, after everything we talked about the past months, there are still things that are hard to say?”

“I guess some things will never stop being hard.” Draco shrugged.

“You are right,” Harry nodded.

Draco thought that was it, Harry would say whatever it was when he was ready, as it had been since the beginning, and that was all right. People had to work through things in their own time. He had learned that.

Draco could feel something changing. It felt like everything around them was charged with magical energy. Harry took a deep breath and locked eyes with Draco.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Harry murmured.

Draco could feel the pull to say yes, to kiss Harry. But this time the pull didn’t come only from the energy around them, it came from inside Draco, from every single one of his feelings and his thoughts. But he couldn’t, not without knowing something first.

“Do you really want to kiss me, or is it the castle pushing you to do it?”

“I won’t lie, I can feel that the castle wants it to happen, too. But I really do want to kiss you, I’ve wanted it for a while now.”

That was enough for Draco. He leaned closer to Harry and their lips touched. All the magic around them clicked, and Draco got goosebumps all over his body. 

They could barely call that a kiss — it was closer to a brush of lips — but it was the best thing Draco had ever felt.

Harry looked at him intently and leaned in to kiss him again. And again. They spent a long time kissing each other, until Harry’s eyes looked heavy, he leaned back against the couch, and fell asleep.

Draco couldn’t stop smiling to himself, so he leaned against Harry and placed his head on Harry’s shoulder. There was no doubt in his mind this was exactly where he was supposed to be. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my amazing beta TDCat.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://must-love-drarry.tumblr.com/)


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